Night's course half run, soon as the first repose had banished sleep,—what time some careful wife whose distaff and Minerva's humble toil must earn her bread, rekindling her warm hearth, adds a night-burden to her laboring day, and by the torch-light cheers her maidens on to their long tasks; that so her husband's bed she may in honor keep, and train to power her dear men-children—at such prime of morn, with not less eager mind the Lord of Fire fled his soft couch and to his forges tried. An island near Aeolian Lipara not far from a Sicilian headland lies, where smoking rocks precipitously tower above a vast vault, which the Cyclops' skill outhollowed large as Aetna 's thunderous caves. There ring the smitten anvils, and the roof re-echoes, roaring loud. Chalybian ores hiss in the gloom, and from the furnace mouths puff the hot-panting fires. 'T is Vulcan's seat, and all that island is Vulcania. Thither descended now the god of fire from height of heaven. At their task were found the Cyclops in vast cavern forging steel, naked Pyracmon and gigantic-limbed Brontes and Steropes; beneath their blows a lightning-shaft, half-shaped, half-burnished lay, such as the Thunderer is wont to fling in numbers from the sky, but formless still. Three strands of whirling storm they wove with three of bursting cloud, and three did interfuse of ruddy-gleaming fires and winged winds; then fearful lightnings on the skilful forge they welded with loud horror, and with flames that bear swift wrath from Jove. Elsewhere a crew toiled at the chariot and winged wheel wherewith the war-god wakens from repose heroes and peopled cities. Others wrought the awful Aegis, herald of dismay, by angry Pallas worn; they burnished bright the golden serpent-scales and wreathing snakes, till from the corselet of the goddess glared the Gorgon's severed head and rolling eyes. “Cyclops of Aetna ,” Vulcan cried, “have done! Leave ev'ry task unfinished, and receive my new command! Good armor must be forged for warrior brave. For this I need to use your utmost sinew and your swiftest hand, with all your master skill. No lingering now!” Swift the command, and swiftly they divide to each his portion, and united urge the common task. Forth fow the molten streams of brass and gold, and, melted in fierce fiame, the deeply-wounding steel like liquid flows. A mighty shield took shape, its single orb sufficient to withstand the gathered shock of all the Latin arms; for seven times they welded ring with ring. Some deftly ply the windy bellows, which receive and give the roaring blasts; some plunge in cooling pond the hissing metal, while the smithy floor groans with the anvil's weight, as side by side they lift their giant arms in numbered blows and roll with gripe of tongs the ponderous bars. While thus the Lemnian god his labor sped in far Aeolian isle, the cheerful morn with voice of swallows round his lowly eaves summoned Evander. From his couch arose the royal sire, and o'er his aged frame a tunic threw, tying beneath his feet the Tuscan sandals: an Arcadian sword, girt at his left, was over one shoulder slung, his cloak of panther trailing from behind. A pair of watch-dogs from the lofty door ran close, their lord attending, as he sought his guest Aeneas; for his princely soul remembered faithfully his former word, and promised gift. Aeneas with like mind was stirring early. King Evander's son Pallas was at his side; Achates too accompanied his friend. All these conjoin in hand-clasp and good-morrow, taking seats in midcourt of the house, and give the hour to converse unrestrained. First spoke the King: “Great leader of the Teucrians, while thy life in safety stands, I call not Trojan power vanquished or fallen. But to help thy war my small means match not thy redoubled name. Yon Tuscan river is my bound. That way Rutulia thrusts us hard and chafes our wall with loud, besieging arms. But I propose to league with thee a numerous array of kings and mighty tribes, which fortune strange now brings to thy defence. Thou comest here because the Fates intend. Not far from ours a city on an ancient rock is seen, Agylla, which a warlike Lydian clan built on the Tuscan hills. It prospered well for many a year, then under the proud yoke of King Mezentius it came and bore his cruel sway. Why tell the loathsome deeds and crimes unspeakable the despot wrought? May Heaven requite them on his impious head and on his children! For he used to chain dead men to living, hand on hand was laid and face on face,—torment incredible! Till, locked in blood-stained, horrible embrace, a lingering death they found. But at the last his people rose in furious despair, and while he blasphemously raged, assailed his life and throne, cut down his guards and fired his regal dwellings; he, the while, escaped immediate death and fied away to the Rutulian land, to find defence in Turnus hospitality. To-day Etruria, to righteous anger stirred, demands with urgent arms her guilty King. To their large host, Aeneas, I will give an added strength, thyself. For yonder shores re-echo with the tumult and the cry of ships in close array; their eager lords are clamoring for battle. But the song of the gray omen-giver thus declares their destiny: ‘O goodly princes born of old Maeonian lineage! Ye that are the bloom and glory of an ancient race, whom just occasions now and noble rage enflame against Mezentius your foe, it is decreed that yonder nation proud shall never submit to chiefs Italian-born. Seek ye a king from far!’ So in the field inert and fearful lies Etruria's force, disarmed by oracles. Their Tarchon sent envoys who bore a sceptre and a crown even to me, and prayed I should assume the sacred emblems of Etruria's king, and lead their host to war. But unto me cold, sluggish age, now barren and outworn, denies new kingdoms, and my slow-paced powers run to brave deeds no more. Nor could I urge my son, who by his Sabine mother's line is half Italian-born. Thyself art he, whose birth illustrious and manly prime fate favors and celestial powers approve. Therefore go forth, O bravest chief and King of Troy and Italy ! To thee I give the hope and consolation of our throne, pallas, my son, and bid him find in thee a master and example, while he learns the soldier's arduous toil. With thy brave deeds let him familiar grow, and reverence thee with youthful love and honor. In his train two hundred horsemen of Arcadia , our choicest men-at-arms, shall ride; and he in his own name an equal band shall bring to follow only thee.” Such the discourse. With meditative brows and downcast eyes Aeneas and Achates, sad at heart, mused on unnumbered perils yet to come. But out of cloudless sky Cythera's Queen gave sudden signal: from th' ethereal dome a thunder-peal and flash of quivering fire tumultuous broke, as if the world would fall, and bellowing Tuscan trumpets shook the air. All eyes look up. Again and yet again crashed the terrible din, and where the sky looked clearest hung a visionary cloud, whence through the brightness blazed resounding arms. All hearts stood still. But Troy 's heroic son knew that his mother in the skies redeemed her pledge in sound of thunder: so he cried, “Seek not, my friend, seek not thyself to read the meaning of the omen. 'T is to me Olympus calls. My goddess-mother gave long since her promise of a heavenly sign if war should burst; and that her power would bring a panoply from Vulcan through the air, to help us at our need. Alas, what deaths over Laurentum's ill-starred host impend! O Turnus, what a reckoning thou shalt pay to me in arms! O Tiber , in thy wave what helms and shields and mighty soldiers slain shall in confusion roll! Yea, let them lead their lines to battle, and our league abjure!” He said: and from the lofty throne uprose. Straightway he roused anew the slumbering fire sacred to Hercules, and glad at heart adored, as yesterday, the household gods revered by good Evander, at whose side the Trojan company made sacrifice of chosen lambs, with fitting rites and true. Then to his ships he tried him, and rejoined his trusty followers, of whom he took the best for valor known, to lend him aid in deeds of war. Others he bade return down stream in easy course, and tidings bear to young Ascanius of the new event, and of his father. Horses then were brought for all the Teucrians to Etruria bound; and for Aeneas one of rarest breed, o'er whom a tawny robe descended low, of lion-skin, with claws of gleaming gold. Noised swiftly through the little town it flies that to the precinct of the Tuscan King armed horsemen speed. Pale mothers in great fear unceasing pray; for panic closely runs in danger's steps; the war-god drawing nigh looms larger; and good sire Evander now clings to the hand of his departing son and, weeping without stay, makes sad farewell: “O, that great Jove would give me once again my vanished years! O, if such man I were, as when beneath Praeneste's wall I slew the front ranks of her sons, and burned for spoil their gathered shields on my triumph day; or when this right hand hurled king Erulus to shades below, though—terrible to tell — Feronia bore him with three lives, that thrice he might arise from deadly strife o'erthrown, and thrice be slain—yet all these lives took I, and of his arms despoiled him o'er and o'er: not now, sweet son (if such lost might were mine), should I from thy beloved embrace be torn; nor could Mezentius with insulting sword do murder in my sight and make my land depopulate and forlorn. O gods in Heaven, and chiefly thou whom all the gods obey, have pity, Jove, upon Arcadia's King, and hear a father's prayer: if your intent be for my Pallas a defence secure, if it be writ that long as I shall live, my eyes may see him, and my arms enfold, I pray for life, and all its ills I bear. But if some curse, too dark to tell, impend from thee, O Fortune blind! I pray thee break my thread of miserable life to-day; to-day, while fear still doubts and hope still smiles on the unknown to-morrow, as I hold thee to my bosom, dearest child, who art my last and only joy; to-day, before th' intolerable tidings smite my ears.” Such grief the royal father's heart outpoured at this last parting; the strong arms of slaves lifted him, fallen in swoon, and bore him home.